


I'll Be Home For Christmas

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rescue Missions, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8995534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: John's feeling no pain, thanks to the drugs his captors have him on, but he's still missing Rodney. And all he wants is to get home for Christmas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A heart-felt Thank You and Merry Christmas to everyone who has read my fics this year, and left me comments and kudos. I really appreciate your support and enthusiasm and kindness. This holiday fic is for you!
> 
> Special thanks to nagi_schwarz for the beta! You're the best!

_I’m dreaming tonight of a place I love_  
_Even more than I usually do_  
_And though I know it’s a long road back_  
_I promise you…_

John lost track of the days – too many trips through the Gate, too many trips in his head – but he thought it must be close to Christmas. 

He’d really been looking forward to Christmas.

“’s the mos’ won’erful time of th’ year,” he mumbled, head lolling.

He had the best present for Rodney. It was really gonna knock his socks off.

“Socks off,” John said, huffing out a laugh. “Funny.”

It was his first Christmas in Rodney’s pants. No, wait. It was his first Christmas _since_ he’d gotten into Rodney’s pants. That made it extra important. Except now he wasn’t there because the fucking Baellen were trying to sell him on the open market like a piece of fish. No, not fish. Like a horse. He’d had one when he was growing up. He missed riding, except when he was flying spaceships.

Having the gene sucked sometimes. A lot of times. Rodney sucked too, but only in the best way.

John was pretty sure he was in love with Rodney. Definitely his ass. And his mouth. His hands were good, too, and John had watched him work often enough to know. He had really strong arms. And the best snarky comments. Rodney was the best of everything.

Except rescues. John was sure he’d have rescued Rodney by now. Wouldn’t he have? Maybe not. Rodney was good at facilitating rescues because he was so smart, he had a big, big brain, and he could figure stuff out fast. 

“Smar’es’ man in two gal’xies.”

The Baellen were smart too. Fuckers. Removed his tracker, and that had hurt. Kept moving John, never in one place too long. He was pretty far from home. And he really wanted to go home.

“Where th’ love ligh’ gleams.”

Atlantis was the best.

She talked to him, in her own way. Because he had good jeans. No. Genes. And it was the best kind of scifi because he used his mind to open doors and fly ‘jumpers. Rodney always made him turn stuff on and off, and now the Baellen wanted him to do it to show how useful and special he was, and that was funny because he was just supposed to be a fucking flyboy. His life got weird.

“Outta my depth, yeah.”

What if the bastard Genii bought him? What if Kolya did? Fucking Kolya. The villains were always too tough to kill. It was an unfair advantage. But John was tough to kill, too. He did it all the time, even though Rodney got mad.

The last time he made Rodney mad he had a coffee cup thrown at his head, and then there was kissing, and that had been pretty good. But John couldn’t promise to be safe, and he was right, and now there wouldn’t be any more kissing.

He almost escaped. Twice. Broke his arm. That’s when they gave him the happy juice. Nothing hurt now. He couldn’t walk without falling, or rescue himself, or get home for Christmas, but that was life in Pegasus, wasn’t it? Always a new low.

“I’ll be home for Chri’mas,” John warbled. “Ro’ney can count on me.”

“Someone shut him up! We have to go! Now!”

John was man-handled out of the chair by his captors, and a hand was slapped over his mouth. Fucking Baellen. They didn’t wash enough. Then again, John was pretty sure he had stink lines coming off him, too. He licked the palm and the hand was removed abruptly.

“Onna firs’ day of Chri’mas, my nekkid Ro’ney gave me fi’e gold’n riiiiiings!”

The hand was back, this time in a glove. John tried to bite it. And then there was a lot of shouting and noise and blasters and it was just like Star Wars, the good one where Han shot first and Boba Fett was still a badass.

It sounded a lot like a rescue, but John couldn’t hold his head up well enough to see what was going on. Maybe it really was a Star Wars movie, because his captors fell, and then he started to fall, only the big guy caught him before he hit the floor.

“Chewie. Good timin’.”

“I’ve got Sheppard,” Ronon called out.

John couldn’t see too well. The happy juice fuzzed everything out, unless he really concentrated and that was way too hard. But he could tell when Rodney’s face floated into his field of vision, even if he looked a little like a Picasso.

“Colonel. Are you injured?”

“All I wan’ for Chri’mas is youuuu!”

Ronon snorted. “He’s high as a balloon.”

“Kite,” Rodney corrected.

“That arm looks damaged,” Teyla said. John couldn’t see her, but he was happy she was there. He had the best team. He was never giving them up because they sucked way less than his actual family and he never wanted to be without them.

“Do you know what they gave you?” Rodney sounded mad. He made Rodney mad a lot, but he was almost sure this time he was mad at the Baellen. 

“Nope. Tastes like…hmmm…blue.”

“Oh, well I’m sure Carson will find that very helpful. Can you carry him?”

John experienced a little vertigo as he was slung over Ronon’s shoulder. The guy was like a mountain and twice as strong, and sometimes John hated him for being so young and fit and badass.

“Still take you,” John muttered into Ronon’s back.

Ronon smacked him on the ass. “Keep telling yourself that, old man.”

“If you two are done, can we go before reinforcements arrive?”

“Ro’ney Claus is comin’ to town,” John sang.

Teyla giggled. 

“Just what we need. Maybe you should stun him,” Rodney suggested.

John didn’t get a chance to protest. Maybe it was all the blood rushing to his head, or maybe he was just tired – Had he slept at all? He couldn’t remember. – but Ronon hadn’t taken more than ten steps before John’s vision faded to black.

*o*o*o*

John came awake slowly, the soothingly familiar hum of Atlantis in the back of his mind. He was home. The smell of antiseptic, and the heavy weight of a cast on his arm, told him he was in the infirmary.

He felt rough, achy all over and as parched as the inside of a mummy. He blinked his eyes open, trying to recall how he’d gotten back. The last clear memory he had was of breaking his arm in his second failed escape. After that everything was kind of hazy and fractured, hard to make sense of.

There was a snuffly snorting sound and John turned his head, not at all surprised to see Rodney asleep in the chair next to the bed, laptop hugged to his chest.

He really needed something to drink, so John reached over and poked Rodney in the shoulder. Rodney immediately jerked awake, and then fumbled madly with the laptop, almost dropping it.

“Was that necessary?” Still, he gave John a careful once-over, nothing but concern on his face. “How are you feeling?”

John’s raspy attempt at a reply facilitated the retrieval of a cup of lukewarm water; he’d never tasted anything better. “Thanks.”

Rodney set the cup and the laptop aside. “You okay?”

“I’ll live.” John shifted on the bed, wincing. “Did you run me over with a ‘jumper before you brought me home?”

“I assume that’s the after-effects of the withdrawal from the drugs they gave you. Carson can give you the full scoop.” Rodney didn’t seem to be in any hurry to call for the doctor, though. “Do you remember any of it?”

John shook his head. “Not really. How bad was it?”

He remembered all too well how Rodney had been, coming off the Wraith enzyme overdose: strapped to the infirmary bed, screaming and cursing and begging and threatening. John had missed most of it, but he’d watched the security footage.

“There was a surprising amount of over-sharing, considering the source. You know how we talked about keeping things just between us?”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Rodney looked entirely too pleased. “After the twelfth verse of ‘Naked Rodney’ the cat was pretty much out of the bag.”

John closed his eyes, mortified. He was glad he had no memory of that, though he wasn’t foolish enough to hope that word hadn’t already spread to the entirety of the expedition. How was he going to face his Marines?

“How did you find me?” he asked in a transparent bid to change the subject. “They cut my tracker out.”

“I know they did.”

John cracked one eye open and saw that Rodney’s thunderous expression matched the anger in his voice. 

“We found it. There was a lot of blood.”

“Hey.” John reached out and Rodney met him halfway, grabbing hold of his hand. “I’m okay.”

“Only thanks to my paranoia about your propensity for getting into trouble,” Rodney said petulantly. “They didn’t find the tracker in your boot.”

“You lo-jacked my footwear?”

“You’re lucky I did!” Rodney’s hand tightened on John’s. “Those assholes were smart enough to keep you on the move. Without that tracker…well, it doesn’t matter.”

John couldn’t lie, not to himself. It was nice having someone care about him so much. Under different circumstances he might have been pissed at the invasion of privacy, but this was Rodney. He couldn’t ask John to stop getting into dangerous situations, so he’d do what he could to make sure John never got truly lost. It moved him in ways he’d never be able to verbalize.

“Did I miss Christmas?” John asked.

Rodney checked his watch. “Nope. You still have about twenty minutes of it left. Ronon said he was going to save you some cookies, but he probably ate them.”

John had gotten Rodney a special gift: he’d joined Mensa. He’d never cared enough to do it for himself, but he knew how much intellectual validation meant to Rodney. Now…well, now he was thinking there was a different kind of validation the man could use that would mean even more.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about making a fool of myself and outing us to everyone,” John said hesitantly. “But I don’t care who knows.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes. “What is this?”

“This is me, telling you that I…that I really… _do_.” And why was it the bullshit could flow so freely from his mouth but not the words that really mattered? Then again, Rodney _was_ the smartest man in two galaxies, and judging by the affectionate look on his face he knew what it was John was trying to say.

“You’re a frustrating, impossible human being with a ridiculously oversized hero complex,” Rodney said. He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to John’s lips. “And I’d really prefer you to stop singing about me being naked, at least in public. But…I do, too.”

John grinned and tugged Rodney closer. There was nothing chaste about the kiss that followed, but it wasn’t the only reason John felt breathless.

“Merry Christmas, McKay.”

“Stop talking,” Rodney muttered against his lips.

John was more than happy to oblige.


End file.
